


A Part for You

by La_Petite_Lionne



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Alexander is a civic hacker, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gay John Laurens, Graduate School, Humor, I don't have a plan, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, The POV gets a little crazy, everyone is LGBTQ+, pretty much, tags regularly updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Petite_Lionne/pseuds/La_Petite_Lionne
Summary: "John had somehow brought him to the precipice of something important, something he didn’t understand. If Alexander could catch it, entrap it in language and wrestle it to the page, perhaps he could tip them both over the edge."This story is all romance (first), politics (second), and existential crisis (third).Things start getting a little steamy in Chapter 4 and on.





	1. The Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alexander win a debate, or  
> The one where John doesn't understand flirting

# CHAPTER 1: THE DEBATE

** Alexander **

Alexander was still standing, slender body tensed and leaning forward from the hips, as the debate buzzer sounded. He blinked. His notes were scattered across the floor behind him where he had thrown them in an impassioned, unrehearsed tirade about the need for regulatory checks on private wealth in the civil sector. 

Though he hardly could have contained himself in any circumstance, the outraged grunt coming from the direction of his debate partner, John Laurens, at Charles Lee's suggestion that the rich always knew best what to do with their money, had driven Alexander over the edge. In the moment, he was pretty sure that he was winning as he watched Lee’s expression calcify into a blankness, but the adrenaline electrifying his body through his made it difficult to remember exactly what he’d said in the moment. 

The classroom was silent for a moment and he could feel his heart beating powerfully inside his chest. He glanced back at his partner, but John was looking up at him with an expression Alexander couldn’t read, his lips parted in a soundless "oh.” Was John impressed or horrified? 

_Damn it, I should have asked him for some signal before chewing them apart like that. What if he had wanted to say something else?_ Alexander felt a sliver of anxiety curl in his chest as the blood began to leave his face. What if he had come off like an idiot? He couldn't bear to be laughed at, or worse, pitied. The roaring in his ears persisted until he heard his classmates break into light applause. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was alright. He had done well.

“Brava!” The professor stepped into the middle of the room, tossing her long, gray hair enthusiastically and edging Alexander back to his side of the stage. “Fantastic debate. Philanthropic influence on the charitable sector has never been more interesting.” She clapped, “Now, please, everyone fill out your ballots and we will determine today’s victor.”

Alexander’s vision still swimming, he moved his fingers one at a time, rolling his neck slowly, trying to come down from the high of confrontation an back into his own body. He figured he was about eighty-percent back to normal by the time that the professor announced that he and John has swayed more of his classmate’s opinions than his opponents and students began to leave the room. He turned to look at John who was kneeling on the carpeted floor, head just below the desk, already collecting the pages Alexander had carelessly thrown to the ground. He bent down to help him, noting and ignoring the quickening of his own pulse.

“John!” He said, letting his gaze slide over the other man’s face: broad lipped with golden skin, high cheekbones smattered with freckles, and tightly curled dark hair pulled back into two braids on either side of his head. He was taller and broader than Alexander, more muscled. John hadn’t heard him. He leaned closer, reaching out and gently placing his fingertips on the wrist of John’s outstretched hand. “We won!”

“What, I’m sorry?” John looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. Not for the first time since they had begun this project, Alexander noticed they were a lovely dark hazel, flecked with green and gold.

_What an odd guy,_ Alexander thought. Perhaps he had taken his debate persona a bit too far and freaked John out with his haranguing. He felt his face grow warm. Alexander tried to chase away his moment of doubt with a wide smile, lifting one eyebrow and repeating himself for the third time, “We won! Great work!”

“Oh yeah,” John said, with an expression that implied he was connecting again to the present moment. “Great job! You really destroyed Lee with that whole 'philanthropy as tax evasion' argument.'”

Alexander nodded. "Well, you made Burr look like an indecisive idiot. Way to show how feckless and irresponsible it is to avoid taking a side when people's rights and lives are on the line."

John returned his smile, a bit sheepishly Alexander thought, and said, “I’m sure we’ll get an A."

Alexander nodded again, noticing that his chest was still tight, and heard his phone start to buzz. "Listen, I have another class now." _And about a million other reasons to get out of here before I do something stupid because of your painfully attractive face_ , Alexander thought to himself, struggling to pull the phone from his back pocket. Now is not the time to get disastrously involved with yet another classmate. He willed himself to stop looking at his partner and began to head for the door, brushing past Laurens’ friends with a genial nod.

“See you later John. I’ll send you a calendar invite to go over our final project.” Alexander waved over his shoulder, glancing down to his dozens of missed messages.

Once he was out the door, he cursed himself silently, taking the steps that led out of the building two at a time and trying to force the images of John’s smiling face and bright eyes out of his mind. He burst out into the winter afternoon and paced in front of the library for another fifteen minutes before he felt calm enough to continue with his day.

He was going to need at least a few drinks, and maybe a one-night stand, to forget about John tonight. He would call the Schuylers. They were usually good for a distraction.  

** John **

John Laurens sunk back into his seat in stunned silence as the rest of the class cleared out of the room. He furrowed his brow and glanced up at his friends, Gilbert de Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan, who seemed to be arguing about something that John hadn’t caught, to see if they had noticed the strange way that Alexander had leaned down and muttered in John’s ear before rushing out in a flurry of notes and buzzing cell phone messages.

“Uh, guys…” John started, blinking a few times, shaking himself, and sheathing his laptop. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the rear two legs, and stretched his long arms over his head, letting one hand fall to rest on the soft plait of his braided hair as he scratched his head.

He wanted to ask them…. well, what exactly? John often had a difficult time understanding when others were flirting with him, especially in the light of day, outside of the dark corridors and back rooms of the bars in which he usually picked up guys. Normally, in a case like this, he would rely on his friends to tell him when he was being overeager or oblivious.

His friends stopped their heated conversation to look down, waiting for him to finish. John felt his face go red and the words evaporate from his lips. _Nevermind. This was stupid. It was nothing._

“Yes, John.” Lafayette rolled his eyes, lips pulling down at the corners slightly, “We know. You won. Yes, great! Now can we leave, please?” He said in clear, but French-accented English.

“That’s not…” John hesitated and sighed, “nevermind.”

Hercules shrugged his wide shoulders, pulling on his wool coat. “My man is hungry,” He rolled his eyes at Lafayette, “and you know he acts like a fucking baby when he’s hungry. Do you want to eat? We have a few hours to kill before it’s socially acceptable to hit up Peter’s.”

Lafayette let out a dramatic sigh, cocking an eyebrow in John’s direction, and ran a hand up to his mane of dark curly hair. “ _Oui!_ I would not have to act this way if Hercules made good decisions. But he does not. I do not know why we decided to take a four hour class on Saturday morning.” He grabbed John by the jacket and pulled him up.

“It’s only every other Saturday Laf,” John shrugged.

Lafayette raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. “I will forgive you because I know that this was Hercules’ _stupide_ idea. But now you are also irritating me. Can we please go? I am, how you say, starved.”

Lafayette was right. This class was a stupid idea. John stood up, quickly closing his jacket over his lap, trying to forget the closeness of Alexander’s body, just moments before, and the feeling of his hot breath on John's neck.

\---

_“We won!” Alexander had said, his face suddenly and unexpectedly close to his own. John had been distracted and hadn’t noticed Hamilton leaning down toward him, his mind preoccupied with the concern that Lafayette and Hercules had noticed him gazing at Hamilton in awe during the debate. He worried his expression had given away the heady satisfaction John had felt as he listened to his partner tear their opponents apart with brutal, theatrical flourish. As soon as the buzzer went off, John had wrenched his eyes away from Alexander’s oval face, afire with indignation, and tried to hide his embarrassment by collecting the papers scattered across the floor.  John had been so fixated on his task that he hadn’t noticed that Alexander had knelt down to help him until his partner had reached out a slender, long-fingered hand and gingerly grasped John’s wrist. Tendrils of Alexander’s black hair had come loose from the messy bun on top of his head and fallen in waves over his shoulder to brush lightly against John’s face._

_“We won,” Alexander had said cheerfully, leaning closer and smiling broadly in a grin that showed his front canines, a ferocious expression in his large, dark eyes. John felt the heat of Alexander’s hand through his sleeve, and recalled the one or two moments during late-night debate prep sessions where he thought he had caught Alexander staring at him over the edge of his laptop, one corner of his mouth upturned in a sort of hungry, mischievous grin._

\---

_Nothing. It was nothing._ John shook his head and arm in an attempt to physically excise the memory from his body, with limited success. He finished gathering his things, leaving the basement classroom and ascending the stairs a few steps behind his friends as they continued to bicker with one another. He walked out the front doors into the thin, bright air of the January afternoon and took a deep breath.


	2. The Pub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is into John, John is into fisticuffs, or  
> The one where they share a weird bathroom moment

# CHAPTER 2: THE PUB

** John  **

Hours later, with his fourth beer sweating between his palms and Hercules and Lafayette talking over his head, John heard a familiar voice coming from a small group arguing behind his table at their favorite bar. “No, no, no Angelica. You don’t understand.” _Alexander._

The Saturday night crowd had descended upon the pub, filling it with a cacophony of slurred conversations on subjects too intricate and complicated for the venue. John considered drunk graduate students to be the absolute worst, but he loved his friends and would camp out with them at any shitty, beer soaked bar they desired. And today, as always, that bar was Peter’s Pub: a place where peppy folk electronica pulsed from speakers mounted on the walls as waitresses passed by with trays of giant pretzels held high over their heads, barbacks shuffling beer bongs to clusters of people huddled two to a seat at dark wood tables illuminated by candle light.

John turned to see Alexander at the center of a small crowd of students half a room away, leaning his shoulders back against the brick wall behind him with casual irreverence. Even from the distance, John could see that Hamilton was talking rapidly, gesturing with such animation that the his glass of liquor threatened to spill onto those standing near him. His thin face was flushed, either from the heat of the room or the subject of his conversation, and his dark eyes shone underneath perfectly shaped black brows. 

John turned his face away from the scene, feeling his heart rate climb as he noticed the movement and angle of Alexander's hips as he swayed against the wall out of the corner of his eye. He chastised himself again for his stupidity.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see a rather tall and pretty girl with narrow features and dark skin, who John assumed was Angelica, giving Alexander a pointed look that appeared amused and irritated in equal measure. Another taller man, be-speckled and pale, had his arm around the girl’s waist, holding her loosely.

“Alexander Hamilton, you will be wary of telling me what I do, and do not, understand. Especially when you’re on your third scotch.” Angelica sniffed at him and the tall man embracing her gave Hamilton’s arm a slight shove, causing Hamilton to splash his drink on himself.

_What the fuck._

John felt himself rise from his seat before he realized it, turning his full body to face the small crowd behind them, chest forward and hands dropping heavily to his sides in loose fists. The familiar prickling sensation of barely restrained aggression began to raise the hairs on the back of his neck before he saw Hamilton’s face split into an even wider grin, clearly unperturbed by his companion’s friendly gesture. The tall man grabbed some napkins from the bar next to him and tried to blot Hamilton’s shirt apologetically.

_Oh my god._ He pinched the bridge of his nose. _I’m such a psycho. I barely know this guy and I’m ready to throw down in Peter’s over a spilt scotch._

John took a deep breath and considered that maybe he had already had too much to drink. Getting into bar fights was a habit he had been trying to break, and Gilbert and Hercules would never forgive him if he got them kicked out of Peter’s.

“Yo,” Hercules looked up at John’s standing form. “What’s up with you man?” He said, apparently not having noticed any familiar faces in the group behind them.

John could feel his face reddening again. “Nothing, gotta piss,” he said quickly, moving out from around the table and walking past Alexander and his friends toward the bathroom. _Get ahold of yourself,_ Laurens, he chided himself. For a moment, he thought he heard someone say his name. He made sure not to catch Alexander’s eye as he walked past.

 

** Alexander **

“No, no, no Angelica. You don’t understand,” Alexander said, trying to keep his feet on the ground while his head spun. This was only the second stop on their standard weekend bar crawl, and Alexander was already much more inebriated than usual. The tight, anxious sensation that was born in his chest the moment he had touched John Laurens’ hand earlier in the day had settled in to stay, irritating him and increasing his determination to drink the discomfort into oblivion.

He pushed his shoulders back against the wall, leaning his hips forward and sighing into the bricks behind him. “The man is,” he shook his head. He wore his hair loose, and the gesture caused dark, curled waves to fall into his face, “fantastic.” He exhaled, watching Angelica Schuyler smile tightly down at him. She scrunched her nose and moved closer to her boyfriend, John Church, who had snaked his arm around her waist.

“Alexander Hamilton, you will be wary of telling me what I do, and do not, understand. Especially when you’re on your third scotch.” They laughed, and Church reached out to tap Alexander playfully on the arm. The gesture caused Alexander’s hand to jerk, splashing scotch on his new shirt.

Well, shit. He felt himself laughing through the steadily growing alcoholic haze at the clumsiness of it. Church was such an awkward fuck. He would never really understand what Angelica saw in him. The shirt was new, but what did he care? He wasn't destitute anymore. He could afford dry cleaning.

He found himself swatting away Church’s hand as the other man bashfully tried to help clean up the mess with a handful of napkins.

“Church, stop,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “it’s fine. But listen, I’m serious, this guy is brilliant.” Alexander continued, “He doesn’t give a fuck.”

“I’m not sure that is the best criteria by which to judge potential romantic partners Alexander.” Angelica gently patting his shoulder

Alexander shook off her embrace. “No, you have to understand,” he said, “he called Aaron Burr unprincipled! In class! To his face! Ha! What an asshole! What a genius!” 

_I wish he were here._ Dumb thought. He pushed it away.

Alexander stepped  back and looked at the small group around him. He would think about others things. “We are celebrating! Today, we were victorious!” He gestured, shoving his glass in the air. “Raise a glass!”

 

His companions lifted their bottles toward the ceiling, clearly unconcerned with the topic of his toast. He noticed that aside from Angelica and her boyfriend, he didn’t know anyone in the small crowd. Angelica commanded a rotating cast of acquaintances of which he did not attempt to keep track. It didn’t matter. They were there when he needed an audience.

“To reminding those rich motherfuckers they don’t own our souls,” he grinned.

“Here here” the friendly group called back to him as Angelica and Church rolled their eyes in unison. Alexander raised his glass and encouraged the group to drink.

“And to John Laurens,” he said quietly to himself, the image of John’s surprised smile coming back to him unbidden, before taking his own sip.

“What was that?” Angelica said, frowning at him.

“What? Nothing,” he looked back at her, cocking an eyebrow, “Now if you’ll excuse me, _je dois faire piss_.” 

 

** John **

John sighed and steadied himself against the cold white porcelain of the bathroom sink, rubbing a thick hand over his eyes and blocking out the view of the graffitied walls and happy hour posters.

He needed to chill. This pattern was getting exhausting, his constant low-level agitation encouraging his temper to rest much too close to the surface. He felt like he was always fighting: for basic human decency in his classes, for fundamental rights on the streets, and for the future of the kids he mentored at his day job. Every lecture, every march, every stroke of the brush felt like an act of defiance, and the effort hollowed him out and left him craving some kind of connection. Hercules had once called it his “fists or fucking” mentality. 

The frustration built up in his muscles like lactic acid until he found an outlet, some skirmish or a warm body or, occasionally, a minor fixation of some unavailable asshole. Typically self-righteous, and typically someone who didn’t reciprocate his interest. Someone like Alexander.

He was twenty-eight, for god’s sake. It was embarrassing.  

_This is it, he thought,_ trying to quiet his heartbeat and shake Alexander from his mind. _Who gives a fuck if it was a lingering glance? You’ve got to be smarter. Get out there like a normal human person._ “Laurens,” he said aloud to himself, looking at his own face in the small mirror above the sink, “you need to get laid.”

“Well shit John, you shoulda said something then.” John jumped a full two feet back from the mirror as the voice came up behind him.

_Oh god_.

He hadn’t heard anyone else come in the bathroom. He turned to look and felt the icy fingers of mortification tracing their way up from his stomach to his chest. Alexander stood in front of him, one side of his mouth pulled up into a slick smile, one hand on his hip.

“I… uh… Alexander!” He stammered. Alexander raised his eyebrows and kept up the grin, moving over to the sink where John had been standing. He was wetting paper towels to dab his shirt where the drink had spilled on him.

John felt an embarrassing flutter as Alexander looked up at him through long, dark eyelashes. He had never noticed how pretty Alexander’s eyes were. _Damn, now is not the time._

“How are…” John started, his finishing school manners kicking in even in the dirty bathroom, even when he would rather crawl under a rock and die than have this conversation.

Alexander interrupted him, motioning toward the stalls behind them with his chin. “So, should we do it here? Or do you want to buy me a drink first?” 

_Fuck._ John’s mouth went dry as a thin, an electric thrill wound it’s way down to his groin. Surely, Alexander was fucking with him. He was certain it was a joke, but even still, John couldn’t help but notice now that they were standing side by side that Alexander had changed out of the fitted crew neck sweater and rolled chinos he typically wore to class into a tight black t-shirt with sheer arms and a pair of narrow jeans. The outfit looked expensive, and showed off his slender, defined frame. This was the first time John had seen Alexander with his hair all the way down. It looked impossibly soft, even in the ugly florescent light of the bathroom.

He looked very, very good.

John couldn’t read the other man’s face. Alexander was smiling, almost sweetly, with his lips closed in a teasing way. But there was something else, a dark undercurrent of intention, flashing behind his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, John noted that if Alexander wasn't kidding, this wouldn’t exactly be the first time he'd been propositioned in the bathroom at Peter’s Pub.

He couldn't articulate these rapidly turning thoughts. “I didn’t mean… I mean… thanks, but… that’s not what… I’m not...” He continued to stumble.

Alexander smiled up at him again, some of the intensity leaking from his expression, and pushed John’s shoulder slightly. “Relax John, I’m kidding.”

John let out a breath, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face. “Oh, right. Of course.” _Of course he is._

“No need to get all no-homo. Let me buy you a victory drink.” Alexander said, his voice lifting slightly, turning off the water and gesturing toward the door.

“I wasn’t!” John protested, willing his own tone to nonchalance. “That's not even possible for me!” John's face grew hot anew, uncomfortable talking about himself even though he'd just been half convinced that Alexander wanted fuck in the bathroom.

“Oh yes,” Alexander paused for a beat too long, evidently trying to remember something. “I forgot. We did meet at that LGBTQ Latinx mixer last year.” Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Ally?"

John surprised himself with an actual, full-belly laugh. The anxious coil in his gut was beginning to come undone. It had been a very long time since anyone had mistaken him for anything approximating straight. "Gay as fuck," he felt himself smile widely, breathing deeply for what felt like the first time all day. 

Alexander looped his arm around John’s elbow, looking at him sideways and tucking a strand of inky hair behind his ear. “Hm. So maybe we can work on that other thing, after all.

John blinked.

Did Hamilton fucking wink? The pressure of Alexander’s arm was warm and gentle. John felt like he was losing his grip, but allowed the other man to lead him back out to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Up next, some one-one one study time.


	3. The Track

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander runs. John texts. or  
> The one where Alexander is a freak that runs marathons while dictating essays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I said we'd get some AH/JL one-on-one time, but they're just not ready yet. Alexander has too many feelings about John's role as a champion of justice. PS. This story is really taking on a life of it's own.

## CHAPTER 3: THE TRACK

** Alexander **

 

Alexander’s head throbbed with every footfall. He squinted as he labored around the corner of the University’s indoor running track for his second to last lap, expending much more than his typical effort, cursing everything that had the audacity to enter his line of vision: the high windows, the excruciatingly bright sunlight shining through them onto the astroturf and rubberized track, the other early risers nodding and waving to one another.

_This. Sucks._

His muscles were sore and fatigued and his stamina waned with each heavy step. He was in no mood to be jogging with yet another hangover, even if the runner's high was doing wonders for his alcohol-blunted mental acuity. He would much rather have been home in bed, drafting a client proposal or perhaps texting John about their plans for this evening, but he’d already missed a few training sessions since the two of them had begun “working” on their final project almost nightly at the bar after work. If he didn’t get back on track he’d never be able to finish the race in May.

But this morning his head hurt, his throat was ached, and his thoughts felt slow and blurred. He couldn’t concentrate. He finished his last lap and slowed to a walk, shaking out his legs and taking his phone out of the armband where it was strapped. As usual, he had been dictating a voice memo as he moved. He paused the recording, placing his hands on his hips and leaning back, arching slightly and taking a deep breath into his stinging lungs.

Running usually helped him to focus on one subject at a time. Over long distances, he had perfected a pace that was fast enough to push his body to release the endorphins that silenced the multitudes in his mind, while still having enough breath to dictate whatever essay he was writing into his iPhone. But this process, like so many of Alexander’s private, interior activities, was beginning to grow crowded with thoughts of his handsome, freckled friend. _Pathetic_ , he thought to himself, shaking his head heavily and wiping a thin layer of sweat from his forehead, wandering toward the showers.

It was still early and the locker room was unoccupied save for a few elderly professors in tube socks. He walked through the changing area without looking up and found a spot in the far corner of the showers, turning on the spigot and letting the high pressure of the hot water pound divots into his skin.

The memory of Laurens’ hand on his lower back as they parted the previous night, no further along on their assignment then when they had entered hours before, came to him unbidden. It had been a quick, awkward gesture, no more illicit than the way John had playfully nudged Alexander’s knee with under the table, raising an eyebrow in mock-outrage after Alexander made a too-crass joke loud enough for the other patrons to hear.  

Chaste or not, he felt his body start to thrill at the recollection and pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on the stacks of work he had waiting for him at the office. _Jesus fuck_ , he sighed to himself, running a hand through his wet hair. He would have to save thoughts of John for a less public place.

Alexander was starting to realize that he'd never met someone like John before: someone with convictions so absolute that he didn't even perceive the risks of acting on them. The night before, John had told him about to taking a two semester leave from their program to join the BLM protests in the Midwest, leading a Latinx contingent from his home town in South Carolina to the front. As John’s steady, warm voice had narrated his tale of being harassed, beaten, and temporarily jailed, intention smoldered like coal behind his eyes, giving Alexander the impression that even now, after the physical and financial and psychological injuries he’d suffered, John knew that he'd made the only possible choice.  

Hours later, that look still lingered with Alexander. Being in John’s presence had somehow brought him to the precipice of something important, something he didn’t understand. If Alexander could catch it, entrap it in language and wrestle it to the page, perhaps he could tip them both over the edge. He had some ideas. He had some ammunition. But he wasn’t sure yet how to use it.

Alexander rinsed, stepped from the water, wrapped a towel around his long, slender torso and pulled his dark hair into a bun on top of his head. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was pleased to see that he looked only half as exhausted as he felt. Maybe later, if he saw John, he would let his hair down and blow dry it the way Angelica and her sisters used to do before they went dancing.

Pulling on his pants and a t-shirt, Alexander finally turned his attention to the messages he'd been ignoring since last night. There were the usual missives from his boss, Washington, inquiring about his progress on the University lobbying reports. Some rude gifs from Peggy. And then, more pleasantly, a long string of texts from John. 

 

**LAURENS (5:58 am):** yo alexander, want to study again tonight? Maybe we can actually get something done

**LAURENS (6:04 am):** alexander

**LAURENS (6:16 am):** alexander

 

Alexander smiled to himself, his fingertips drumming on his lower lips absently. Was John texting him as soon as he woke up?

 

**LAURENS (6:23 am):** oh shit I hope I didn't wake you

**LAURENS (6:25 am):** wait

**LAURENS (6:25 am):** dont you get up at the ass crack of dawn?

**LAURENS (6:47 am):** now I just feel like youre ignoring me

**LAURENS (6:48 am):** and I was honestly truly going to do some work tonight and not just bullshit and eat fried cheese curds

 

Alexander felt a pang of embarrassment at the realization that, at any given moment of the day, the only thing he wanted to do was bullshit and eat terrible bar food with John Laurens.

 

**HAMILTON (6:52 am):** God damn. John. The sun isn't even up.

**HAMILTON(6:52 am):** I wasn't ignoring you. I was running. Jesus.

**LAURENS (6:53 am):** huh… so Hamilton runs marathons in the morning, reads all day, and writes all night… do you ever sleep?

 

Alexander paused, considering whether or not to take the bait. Sure, he thought, remembering John’s intrusion into his shower reverie, why not? He could at least return the favor.

 

**HAMILTON (6:53 am):** Not really, but there are other things besides writing that occupy my night time hours.

**LAURENS (6:59 am):** is that so?

 

Alexander waited a beat.

 

**LAURENS (7:02 am):** I assume you mean you spend your nights running multiple regressions on economic policy proposals  

**HAMILTON (7:02 am):** fuck you Laurens

 

He watched the bubble indicating that John was typing appear and disappear at least twice before the next message came through.  

 

**LAURENS (7:07 am): f** orget studying… come over to my place tonight? hercules and lafayette are gonna have a thing

**LAURENS (7:07 am):** sounds like you could use a break

 

Alexander thought, with bemusement, that whatever this "thing" was, John had been willing to miss it to go to the bar with him for the third time this week.

 

**HAMILTON (7:08 am):** A thing?

**LAURENS (7:09 am):** yeah… its really something you have to see for yourself

 

Alexander was not stupid. He had wrecked his way through plenty of sexually charged friendships and short-term hook ups. He suspected that all the texting and late night “study” sessions were some weird approximation of nerdy grad school foreplay. And though he had remained sober enough not to propose sex in the bathroom again (a memory which caused a lump of humiliation to sit in his windpipe like a brick), he felt that he was on unsure footing. 

 

**HAMILTON (7:10 am):** Sure. Uptown? Cross streets?

**LAURENS (7:10 am):** Isham and 207, 8:30pm... get excited

**HAMILTON (7:11 am):** Jesus

 

But he was excited. John wanted him in his own space, privately, without the cover of academic necessity. His stomach was doing flips.


	4. The Pre-Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a good dream, Alexander heads to Inwood, or  
> The one where things start to get steamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my friends, we are getting into the smut and feeling portion of our story. Don't say I didn't warn you! 
> 
> (I love hearing from you! Thank you for the kudos and comments! <3)

## CHAPTER 4: THE PRE-GAME

** John **

John woke in the darkness, skin afire with the sensation of hands on his body. He lay still for a moment, willing the dream to stay with him as the impressions slipped, disintegrating into the shadows: soft lips on his mouth, hard thighs entwined with his own, dark hair brushing his face, a familiar voice speaking hot into his ear.

He opened his eyes with effort. He was alone in his bed, tangled in the sheets, the sky outside still dark behind his window. The dream had left him hard and aching. He ignored it and rolled onto his stomach, heart thumping against his rib cage. He reached up, fingers fumbling before closing around his phone. He pressed the side and the screen lit up: 5:52 am.

_Fuck_ , he sighed, pulling his pillow close to his body and burying his face in it with a dissatisfied groan. It was too early to be awake, but not early enough to go back to sleep. He blinked drowsily into the darkness. His first thought was of the last person he’d seen before entering his empty apartment to sleep the night before.

_Is it too early to text him?_

Alexander had said that he usually got up before dawn. John unlocked his phone and opened up his text app and began typing, hoping his message would sound more coherent than he felt. What reason could he invent for having to text Alexander at first light? 

 

**LAURENS (5:58 am):** yo alexander, want to study again tonight? Maybe we can actually get something done

 

_Shit_ , he thought after hitting send. What a stupid thing to say this early in the morning. He sighed and leaned back against his headboard. Whatever. He and Alexander had been up too late last night. This was really Alexander’s fault.

 

**LAURENS (6:04 am):** alexander

 

His mind was still foggy with sleep and it was too early to care. He just wanted to know the other man was out there. So what if it came off a bit needy? His mind drifted back to the dream momentarily as his fingertips trailed down his torso, stopping at the waistband of his pajama pants.

 

**LAURENS (6:16 am):** alexander

 

Maybe he wasn’t awake yet. An image of a sleeping Alexander floated through his mind. John had to swallow around the lump that formed in his throat as he considered what the soft, taught lines of Alexander’s body would look like sprawled across his mattress. John couldn’t resist any longer and reached down to grasp himself, fingers wrapping around his hardness, beginning to pump slowly.

He closed his eyes and let his fantasy mingle with the sensations leftover from the dream: the heat and the press of skin on skin. Of course, he realized now, he had been dreaming of Alexander. The recognition felt illicit and forbidden. He usually tried not to imagine fucking his friends. But he couldn’t stop himself now. He imagined Alexander with him in the bed, on top of him, his hand on his cock. His breath began to come in short, quick gasps as he could feel the pleasure building behind his release, almost painful. His mind supplied a vision of Alexander’s soft, pink mouth around his dick, and he came into his hand with a surprising rush.

He inhaled long and slow. _So much for boundaries_ , he thought, as he moved to clean himself up. The edges of embarrassment began to creep up around his afterglow. Alexander would definitely be able to identify the subtext of his early morning messages. He wondered if he could be snarky enough to divert Alexander’s attention from the fact he was a desperate weirdo.

 

**LAURENS (6:23 am):** oh shit I hope I didn't wake you

**LAURENS (6:25 am):** wait

**LAURENS (6:25 am):** dont you get up at the ass crack of dawn?

 

He was trying for some friendly needling, but his heart wasn’t in it. Instead, John smiled to himself as imagined a pleased expression on Alexander’s face when he saw his long string of messages. At least, he hoped Alexander would be pleased.

He knew he should stop texting now until he got a response, but he wanted to keep going. _What the hell?_ He thought. Maybe he’ll think a little neediness is hot.

 

**LAURENS (6:47 am):** now I just feel like youre ignoring me

**LAURENS (6:48 am):** and I was honestly truly going to do some work tonight and not just bullshit and eat fried cheese curds

**HAMILTON (6:52 am):** God damn. John. The sun isn't even up.

**HAMILTON (6:52 am):** I wasn't ignoring you. I was running. Jesus.

 

John grinned at his phone. Alexander was awake. He knew it. The thought of Alexander covered in sweat, flushed with exertion after a run almost made John reach down to touch himself again.  

He inhaled deeply. _Play it cool Laurens._

 

**LAURENS (6:53 am):** huh… so Hamilton runs marathons in the morning, reads all day, and writes all night… do you ever sleep?

 

_Not slick._

 

**HAMILTON (6:53 am):** Not really, but there are other things besides writing that occupy my night time hours.

 

His heart jumped. What a fucking flirt.

 

**LAURENS (6:59 am):** is that so?

**LAURENS (7:02 am):** I assume you mean you spend your nights running multiple regressions on economic policy proposals  

**HAMILTON (7:02 am):** fuck you Laurens

 

John typed and erased “yes please” twice before sending his next message.

 

**LAURENS (7:07 am):** forget studying… come over to my place tonight? hercules and lafayette are gonna have a thing

**LAURENS (7:07 am):** sounds like you could use a break

 

As far as John knew, his roommates had not actually planned a “thing” for tonight, but it would be highly unusual for a Friday night to pass without some sort of event, especially since none of them had class the following morning. John was confident that they could pull together something entertaining enough to justify inviting Alexander. John wanted to see him, wanted to interact with him outside the confines of the pub or the classroom. Any reason would do.

 

**HAMILTON (7:08 am):** A thing?

**LAURENS (7:09 am):** yeah… its really something you have to see for yourself

 

_We had better make it good._

 

**HAMILTON (7:10 am):** Sure. Uptown? Cross streets?

**LAURENS (7:10 am):** Isham and 207, 8:30pm... get excited

HAMILTON (7:11 am): Jesus

 

_Yes!_ John pulled his pillow back over his face, smiling stupidly into the soft fabric. He’d had worse mornings.

 

** Alexander **

Alexander almost never came this far uptown. He exited the train at 207th street, ascending the steps and observing the red pillars and murals on each side of the station. This was the final stop on the A line, the northernmost tip of Manhattan. Glittering silver mosaic tiles spelled out a message for passengers heading downtown, “At the start…” while the words “At long last…” greeted those returning in the same sparkling font.  

_At long last, indeed._ It had been a quick ride from his station at 145th street, but John’s neighborhood was a different world. Even in the cold weather, street vendors shared space with pairs of older gentleman playing cards at folding tables on the sidewalk, while churches and low-rise storefronts flanked either side of the street. In the waning light, Alexander could just make out a line of trees a few blocks beyond Broadway. Copses were rare in the city, and he assumed that must be Inwood Park. Walking down the sidewalk, in and out of the glow of bodega storefronts while lilting bachata floated into the street, he could guess at the reasons John and his roommates decided to live uptown. It was quiet. He liked it. 

He pulled his jacket collar up around his neck and followed his Google Map directions around the corner, stopping in front of John’s building. Alexander didn’t know what he expected, but it was more modest than he imagined: a low, yellow brick building with an arched iron gate for a front door. He hurried to press the buzzer for apartment 7A with freezing fingers. He had forgotten his gloves, as usual. He hopped from one foot to another trying to keep warm for a few minutes, but no one buzzed him in. He frowned and pulled out his phone, typing quickly.

 

**HAMILTON (8:38 pm):** Hey, I’m downstairs.

**LAURENS (8:38 pm):** coming down… sorry, buzzer must be broke

 

_Figures._ Alexander rolled his eyes and shoved his hands back into his coat, peering in through the front door. The lobby was long and oval shaped, with vintage textured walls painted a pale coral color. He was craning his neck to try and look at what appeared to be a tin ceiling through the window when John exited a stairwell on the side and bounded across the foyer, opening the door for him.

“Hi!” the other man said, face flushed behind his freckles. Alexander had been ready to snipe at John about leaving him out in the cold, but he lost his train of thought as he looked up at the other man. The light from the lobby lit him from behind, highlighting the auburn tones in his loose curls and the brightness of his hazel eyes. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and tapered athletic pants, fitted around the ankle. His whole look was soft, masculine, and glowing.  

_Good god,_ Alexander thought, his breath catching as his eyes came to rest on John’s throat. He was a moment too slow in responding. “Hey,” he muttered, remembering his time in the shower and looking away quickly.

“Come on in!” John said, his honey-sweet southern drawl slipping through ever so slightly. John pulled Alexander through the doorway by his hand, grinning. Alexander thrilled at the contact of John’s warm grip. John seemed to realize a split second later that they were touching, moved slightly as if to drop his hand, but then seemed to change his mind as he led Alexander to an tiny, ancient elevator. 

“So listen, now, I don’t want you to get freaked out,” John said as they reached the top floor and walked over to the only door Alexander could see in the hallway.    

What could possibly freak him out? “About what?”

Alexander watched John take a deep breath, a expression of nervous excitement playing across his brows. “Well, this is a particular kind of party.”

“Uh huh.” Alexander nodded. “Yeah, you called it a thing, if I recall,” he dropped his voice, teasing. 

John looked down at their still clasped hands. “I probably should have mentioned it before.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows and lifted one corner of his mouth in what he hoped was an encouraging smirk. “What John? Spit it out.” Alexander could hear music and laughter through the front door, so he was sure whatever the theme was, it couldn't be that bad. 

“Well,” John started again, returning his smile now, “this is one of Laf and Herc’s No-Pants-Rebel-Revelry parties.”

Alexander’s felt his mouth fall open and a short laugh rise in his chest. “A what!?” He grinned, bringing his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Oh god.”

John raised his eyebrows and looked a bit like a kid caught breaking the rules. Alexander shook his head slightly with obvious amusement, and watched John’s shoulders relax. John was clearly pleased that Alexander hadn’t sprinted out of the building. “There are two rules.”

“Sure,” Alexander nodded.

“One,” John held up a finger in front of him, his voice taking on a mock-serious tenor, placing his other hand on the door knob, “By the end of the party, we have to come up with some way to fuck up Paul Ryan’s day… you know… rebelliously,” He paused. ”For example, last time we sent about a 100 glitter bombs to his congressional office. It was awesome. Herc knows a guy that works there and the staff was cleaning glitter off the Speaker’s shit for a month.”

Alexander laughed low in his throat while his mind flashed to the jump drive attached to his key ring. “Well, that's not exactly shattering systemic injustice, but it is funny,” Alexander grinned wickedly. “I think I may have an even better idea. What’s the second rule? Something to do with pants, I assume.” 

“Yeah,” John let out a low sigh. “That one's pretty straight forward. You have to take off your pants.”

Alexander felt his face growing warm but he was ready to rise to the occasion, even if he felt like he should put up some show of resistance. “I don’t know John. I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.”

“It wasn’t my idea, I swear.” John flushed. “I would have said something sooner but they only just let me know myself. They do it because they know our friend Friedrich is into it. And he always brings the weed.”

Alexander smiled slowly with closed lips, and shrugged, “Well, in that case. Okay.”   

“Okay?” John asked, apparently still nervous enough to be tapping his fingers on the door knob. “It is really good weed,” he added 

Alexander knew it wasn't nice, but he loved the way John looked when was getting ruffled. He couldn't resist the urge to push the other man just a bit further into disarray. "Mmhmm," he hummed, taking a half step closer to John so that they were nearly touching, tucking his chin down and looking at John through his eyelashes. “But I have to tell you John, this is not exactly a subtle way to get me out of my pants.”

Alexander's efforts were rewarded as he heard John take in a sharp breath. “Hm… I… yeah...”

_He is so fucking attractive when he’s flustered._  

He felt his own body responding and stepped away slightly. It wouldn't do to become obviously aroused if they were about to strip down to their underwear. “It’s fine John! Come on!”  

“Are you sure?” John smiled, a bit weakly, and opened the door to let them into the apartment. From the entryway, Alexander could see that there was already a decent crowd of people running around in their skivvies, and that the apartment was much, much bigger than he expected.

In response to John’s question, Alexander looked up at him through his lashes again (since it worked so well the first time) and unbuttoned his jeans, and sliding them down his thighs. He was glad he had decided to wear his favorite briefs: navy blue with thick white stitching. He knew how good they looked against his tanned skin, and against the charcoal gray of his burnout t-shirt, selected initially because it was just sheer enough to put his thin, muscular frame on display.  

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at John, waiting for him to strip.

“Well,” John smiled weakly. Alex expected him to look away, thought that he had probably pushed the other man beyond his limit, but John held his gaze. He looked directly into Alexander’s eyes as he looped his fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled them down slowly to reveal long, muscular legs and a pair of incredibly short trunks. Alexander did not trust himself to consider what was beneath them. 

He felt absolutely predatory as he licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. There would be no hiding his intentions tonight.


	5. The No Pants Rebel Revelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander has an idea. So does John, or  
> Showtime! The one where Alexander meets the gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, but in an effort to try and get these characters out of their heads and into hijinx, it is more dialogue heavy. 
> 
> Minor alcohol and marijuana use. Major pining. 
> 
> Your Kudos and Comments keep me breathing. I never thought I’d be that person, but here I am. Your responses are my life. <3 <3 <3

## CHAPTER 5: THE NO PANTS REBEL REVELRY

 ** John ** 

John felt like he might faint: the edges of vision blurred as he took in Alexander’s incredible, barely clothed body in his hallway. _His hallway._

“Well,” John said, trying to smile through a rising tide of embarrassment and sliding his fingers underneath the waistband of his pants. He willed himself to continue to meet the darkening expression in Alexander’s eyes as he slid his pants down to his ankles.

___

_John had been waiting in the kitchen for Lafayette and Hercules to emerge from their bedroom for a little under fifteen minutes, having procured a half dozen bagels and three steaming cups of coffee. He intended the food as a bribe, hoping to soften his confession and solicit their help._

_John watched them saunter out of their shared bedroom around 10:00 am from around the kitchen corner, looking irritatingly domestic in their matching striped pajamas. Lafayette was beautiful, as always: well over six feet tall, with a wide mouth and sharp cheekbones, skin the color of desert sand, and voluminous curled hair that extended at least six inches from his head in every direction, surrounding his face like a tremendous halo. Hercules, while not quite as tall as Lafayette, had mass and grace from his training as boxer, commanding every space in which he set foot. He was dark complexioned, with short hair and lovely almond shaped eyes over a consistently open, smiling expression._

_For perhaps the first time John felt a twinge of envy watching his friends make their way sleepily into their bright living room, Hercules with a hand placed lightly on Lafayette’s back, guiding him until they collapsed together on the light gray couch. John couldn’t help but recall waking up alone, thinking of Alexander, without even the assurance that his early morning messages would be received favorably. The memory caused a small ache in his chest._

_He steeled himself, walking gingerly from the kitchen to the living room, holding the bags aloft. “Guys, I have food!”_

_Lafayette, who was laying on the sofa with his long legs on the wall and his head hanging over the side, glanced toward John with an upside down smile. “_ Bonjour Jeannot! _You have brought us food?”_

_“Bagels and coffee from around the corner. A new dark roast,” John set his offering on the table with a half-hearted smile. “I tried a sample. It was good.”_

_“Thanks man!” Hercules said, unwrapping the food without hesitation. “So, you only ever bring food when you’re trying to make us forget something shitty you’ve done. What’s the damage?” He said between mouthfuls, turning to wink at Lafayette. Lafayette grinned into Hercules’ shoulder and brought his coffee cup up to his face, hiding his face behind it._

_“Oh come on! Can’t a guy just buy his favorite roommates breakfast?” John wasn’t sure if he was pretending to be defensive, or if his feelings were hurt._  

_Lafayette raised an eyebrow and took another bite of his bagel. “_ Oui _, a man can do this. But that is not what you typically do, no?”_

_Hercules nodded, “Like that time you bought Lafayette an entire ice cream cake after you got into a fist fight on his birthday because that finance bro tried to touch his hair.”_

_Lafayette nodded vigorously, continuing “Or when you allowed Molly and Nancy’s cat to escape onto the fire escape. You bought them a cheese-of-the-month subscription! Which,” he added, “was not even very good because there were no French cheeses and Molly cannot tolerate milk!”_

_“Oh god. Fine.” John covered his eyes with his hand._

_Hercules reached over the table and patted John on the shoulder. “Come now Johnny, tell us what Mom and Dad can do to help.”_

_John scrunched up his nose and sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t call yourselves Mom and Dad.”_

_“But, we are your gay parents and you are our gay son!” Lafayette pouted, pulling his beautiful face into a hurt expression, “We brought you into this world,” He said, squeezing Hercules’ knee and leaning in to kiss him on the lips._

_“Okay, okay, enough!” John threw a napkin at them, biting his lower lip. It was true, Lafayette and Hercules had been there for him from the moment he had come out. “You’re right. I do need your help with something. We need to have, like... a thing tonight.” he looked down at his hands and twirled the sleeve of his coffee cup._

_“Do we,_ mon ami _?” Lafayette grinned, placing his coffee on the table and sliding his long body onto Hercules’ lap. John watched Hercules wrap a large arm around Lafayette’s waist.  “And why is this?”_

_John rolled his eyes at Hercules, who gave him a wide smile from behind Lafayette’s enormous mane. John sighed, running his hand through his hair, “I kind of invited Alexander over tonight, and told him we were having a thing.”_

_“A thing!” Hercules laughed, burying his face in Lafayette’s hair. “_ Maman _, darling, our son is finally bringing home a boy.”_

_Lafayette brought his hand to his heart, dabbing at fake tears with the edge of Hercules’ sleeve. “_ Oh Papa, je suis tellement fier de notre bébé. _”_

_“Stop! I’m older than Lafayette!” John grumbled, “And really… it’s not like I’m celibate.”_

_“Yes, but you do not usually bring the boys you meet in the bathroom at Rockbar home to meet your parents.” Lafayette rested his head on Hercules’ shoulder. “This is different?”_

_“Also” Hercules grunted “you have been talking about Alexander nonstop for two weeks. We just want you guys to have sex and get it over with.”_

_John watched Lafayette press a finger to Hercules’ lips, shushing him. “That is vulgar! We want them to make sweet consensual love together for as long as they both are desirous of the connection.”_

_John pressed his palms to his eyes, “Can we not talk about my sex life right now?”_

_“You brought it up,” Hercules said, reaching around to try and sip his coffee without spilling it on Lafayette’s lap._

_John sighed, and Lafayette turned to whisper into Hercules’ ear._

_“Hm. Now that is a good idea,” Hercules responded, nodding as Lafayette began to type rapidly into his cell phone. “If you don’t think we’re getting old for this sort of thing.”_  

_“We are young at heart.” Lafayette smiled brightly at Hercules, before turning to John. “Alright_ Jeannot _, we will take care of everything. We will have a thing.”_

_John let out a small sigh and felt himself smile. “You guys are the best. Just a few people? It doesn’t have to be crazy.”_

_“Oh,” Lafayette grinned, “Well, that is not actually what I had in mind.”_  

_John felt a small drop in the pit of his stomach. “What did you have in mind?”_

_“Two words,” Hercules leaned forward over Lafayette’s waist and wiggled his eyebrows at John, smirking. “Von Steuben.”_

_John felt the blood leave his face. “No! Guys! We can’t!”_

_“Too late_ mon ami _. I have invited everyone. Friedrich has already said yes, and as usual he will bring his hash and his harem. Contingent on a lack of pants.” Lafayette’s phone buzzed, “Oh! And Molly and Nancy. They will bring many people”_

Shit _, John cursed himself._

_Hercules gave John a toothy grin, immune to to his pleading look of desperation. “Just saying. This is one way to speed up the courtship process.”_

___

_Alexander looks like he’s going to eat me alive_ , John thought to himself, feeling the slight buzz that had been warming his body threatening to coalesce and combust in his stomach. Not that he would mind.

Mercifully, before John was forced to hide what was becoming an obvious situation in his trunks, he heard Lafayette sing-songing his way toward them.

“Alexander! Hello!” The tall man leaned his face forward and kissed Alexander on either cheek, his loose Risky Business style shirt billowing around him. “I will take these.” He held out his hands for their pants, folding them with a practiced quickness.

John watched Alexander blink slowly, the hungry look passing across his face as he turned to respond to Lafayette’s excitable greeting. “ _Bonsoir_ ,” Alexander smiled, “ _Merci de m'avoir invité!_ ”

_“Mais bien sûr! Parlez-vous français?_ ” Lafayette shot John a pleased look.

Alexander took a step toward John and nudged him with his elbow. “ _Oui. Et le créole français et l'espagnol. Je viens des Caraïbes._ ”

“That is wonderful!” Lafayette clapped his hands together, switching back to English. “You will of course fit right in. John speaks a bit of French from his time in Geneva, and Hercules speaks enough to get by.”

“In the bedroom,” John leaned down to mutter in Alexander’s ear as Lafayette turned away from them, leading them further into the apartment toward a crowd of people in various states of undress.

John felt Alexander slip his arm through his own as they walked down the hallway. 

 

 

** Alexander **

Alexander was glad that Lafayette had intruded upon his contemplation of John’s beauty before he did something embarrassing. He tried, with some effort, to subdue the blatant desire he knew was playing across his face. It was a struggle. Subtlety was not his strength. 

He tried to distract himself, smiling up at the tall Frenchman, “ _Bonsoir, merci de m'avoir invité!_ ”

Lafayette broke into a wide smile. _“Mais bien sûr! Parlez-vous français?”_

Alexander watched Lafayette shoot John a loaded look and was powerfully reminded of the way he felt when sitting for oral exams, the teachers staring at him while he composed his arguments. _Well_ , he thought, _at least I'm good at tests._

He nudged John with his elbow, wondering if John had told Lafayette any of the scant details Alexander had previously shared about his childhood. “ _Oui. Et le créole français et l'espagnol. Je viens des Caraïbes._ ” 

“That is wonderful!” Lafayette clapped his hands together. “You will of course fit right in. John speaks a bit of French from his time in Geneva, and Hercules speaks enough to get by.” 

“In the bedroom,” John said. Alexander's skin prickled as John's hot breath hit his neck.

He snorted his amusement and looped his arm around John’s, following as Lafayette led them further into the apartment where about fifteen people were standing in small groups, dancing in their underwear, or seated around the glass coffee table in the middle of the room. Lafayette handed them each a large glass filled with something fizzy and alcoholic. 

“What’s this?” Alexander asked, sniffing the sweet drink.

“It is a revolutionary apéritif,” Lafayette grinned, walking off down the hallway, toward what Alexander assumed were the bedrooms, with their pants.

“Laf calls it the Stone Fence. It’s rum and hard cider,” John said, sipping his happily. “It's good, I promise. He started making them for these parties after going on a revolutionary war bar crawl in Boston. Apparently it was favorite of Colonel Ethan Allen.”

Alexander laughed, “Like the furniture store?”

“Maybe,” John said, throwing himself into an oversized black suede armchair, opposite the couch and the coffee table around which a small group was seated. “But be careful. It’s stronger than it seems. Our _bel homme_ has a heavy hand.”

Glancing around the spacious but worn apartment, Alexander noticed that there were no other open seats nearby and shuffled his feet a bit awkwardly, contemplating sitting on the gray rug next to the others at the coffee table. John seemed to have noticed the same thing at the same moment, and moved over to the side of the large armchair, making room for Alexander and nodding at him with a not-entirely-innocent smile.

Alexander exhaled, wondering at the little shiver that ran through his body. _So. We’re doing this._

He perched next to John, feeling much as he had when he was an awkward teenager on his first date. Alexander caught the corner of John’s eye and watched with amusement as a blush creeped up behind John’s freckles. 

“Hey y’all,” John looked away and waved at the group in front them, leaning back and putting his arm around Alexander at the close of the gesture. “This is Alexander.” 

“Hey,” Alexander smiled, trying to look confident, even as the weight of John’s arm around his shoulders caused his pulse to quicken.

The circle of faces smiled up at him. John motioned to each person in turn, “This is Molly, who took the easy way out in regard to pantslessness” a pale, petite woman with short red hair, clad in a turquoise skirt and mustard crop top, gave him a friendly wave from where she sat on another woman’s lap.

“And her wifey Nancy, who did a much better job with the theme." The woman upon whose lap Molly sat smiled at the two of them. Her dark hair was pulled up and twisted like Rosie the Riveter, and she wore a patched jean jacket over some kind of black bodysuit with garters.

“Thanks John, I try.” She looked pointedly at John’s arm around him. “And Alexander, it's a pleasure.” She winked and pulled Molly closer to her, trying to sneak a look at her cards.

“Nancy is the best queer Filipina rapper in New York,” John said, beaming down at his friends.

Nancy flipped him off without looking up again, “You mean the best _hip hop_ artist, _period_.” 

“Obviously,” John said without irony. “And these two beauties are Will and Peter,” John continued, gesturing with his glass toward the two thin young men sitting next to Molly and Nancy.

Will played a card that made the table groan, and smiled up at Alexander. “Hello,” he said drawing out the vowels and looking Alexander up and down with evident satisfaction. Alexander guessed that he was probably Japanese, with milky skin and a small black tattoo of an infinity symbol behind his ear.

John shifted next to him, leaning forward a bit. “Down boy,” John said to Will, and Alex felt his skin electrify as John’s arm slid down his back to wrap lightly around his waist. “Don't you have enough to keep you occupied?”

Will rolled his eyes and nudged Peter, who had one hand carelessly placed high Will’s thigh. “Peter, don't be rude. Say hello to John’s guest,” his voice lingering a beat too long on John’s name.

Peter startled and said, “ Oh sorry! Hallo!” with a slight French accent, giving a quick smile a before returning his attention to his cards, a look of concentration in his blue eyes.

“Don’t mind them,” John leaned over to whisper in Alexander’s ear, his southern drawl starting to establish itself in earnest as the alcohol and atmosphere seemed to take effect. Alexander found it fucking enchanting. “Will and Peter belong to Fritz,” he continued, motioning with his eyes over to a blonde, square-jawed man in the corner dancing with a small woman with dark, drawn-on eyebrows and platinum hair, a lit joint passing between the two of them as they waltzed arhythmically to some kind of upbeat folk music.

“Belong?” Alexander returned, leaning closer to John’s shoulder.

“Yeah, the Baron kinda collects young, dark haired men.” John smirked, “We call them his harem. There’s another, Ben, that didn’t come tonight.”

“Three!” Alexander whistled lowly, noticing then that Will and Peter were wearing the same outfit: a thin black t-shirt and blue boxer briefs. “Please tell me that they're not like... wearing a sex uniform?”

“S’pose the Baron has particular tastes,” John said, pausing to look into Alexander’s eyes. Something in his expression was making itdifficult for Alexander to maintain eye contact. “As a matter of fact, you had better watch yourself tonight lest you get recruited. You're pretty enough to be his type.” John reached up and tucked a strand of Alexander’s hair behind his hear. 

_Jeez._ Alexander rolled his eyes, but felt his face flush. Apparently John was also shit at subtlety. “I’m not trying to join a stable Laurens.”

John grinned. “There is definitely a joke about riding something in there.”

Alexander smirked, “Well, the night is young,” he said.

Both men turned at the sound of someone coming in the door. John coughed a little and took a sip of his drink, which Alexander noticed he had nearly finished already.“And you know Hercules, of course.”

Hercules entered, wearing a flannel and puffer jacket, carrying a keg over his shoulder. He set it down next to their chair, putting one leg up on top of it as he leaned over to pat Alexander on the shoulder. “Hey Alexander!”

“Hi Hercules. Nice to see you again.” Alexander nodded, gesturing toward the keg. “What’s this”

“Well, some of us are fruity enough without having to drink that sugary shit that Lafayette loves.” He grinned broadly. “It’s Sam Adams. Let me tap it and I’ll pour us a round.”  

“Great” Alexander said, leaning forward and trying to ignore the sensation of John’s legs sliding against his own. “We’re gonna need it if tonight is to be a proper rebellion. Any ideas on how to fuck with the Republicans yet?”

Hercules reached up and ran a hand over his short hair, “Now, John, this is what I’m talking about. You gotta love a man with focus.” Alexander watched Hercules wink at John, who slumped down in the chair and put a hand over his eyes.

“Who has the focus?” Lafayette asked, gliding back into the room to drape himself over Hercules from behind.

“You do, my dear,” Hercules smiled at Lafayette whose brows were drawn in confusion, but who nevertheless straightened up and preened under the praise.

“Thank you?” Lafayette said, before looking down and clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Now, I am sorry chéri , but I must remind you that you have forgotten something.”

“What?” Hercules feigned innocence.

“This is a _no_ pants party.” Lafayette rolled his eyes at Alexander and John.

“Oh right.” Hercules frowned.

John leaned over and nudged Hercules with his foot. “Rules! This was your dumb idea in the first place.”

“You are children,” Hercules grumbled, removing his jeans to reveal a pair of oversized green boxers with yellow ducks on them.  John snorted and Alexander choked back a laugh.  “Can we please get back to politics.” Hercules said, tapping the keg and pouring off the first round of foam. “Or beer, at least.”

Alexander felt John give a gentle squeeze to his waist, leaning over to rest his head on Alexander’s shoulder. He could smell John's shampoo: something sweet and spicy. “Well, last time we did the glitter bombs. Did anyone else have any ideas?”

Alexander tried to control his urge to fidget, not wanting to disturb the magnificent relation of his body to John’s. “Well,” he started, “I did have one idea.” He noticed that the crowd around the coffee table had disbursed, which was just as well because he really didn’t want to share with everyone the thought he’d been nursing since John told him the purpose of the party. He dropped his voice so that only John, Lafayette, and Hercules could hear him. “I may or may not have gotten my hands on some forum posts made by none other than our illustrious Speaker, in which he explicitly states that he knows his healthcare plan will kill people, but that he doesn’t care because they’re a drain on the system anyway.” 

“He said that?” Hercules adopted a similarly hushed tone, but anger rumbled beneath the surface.

“And worse.” Alexander said. “He used a pseudonym on a public site. It’s not confidential or protected. All we have to do is out his username.”

The four of them were now leaning close to one another, heads together. John whispered with thinly veiled excitement, “How did you find this out?”

“Well,” Alexander smirked, “let’s just say that my side business attracts some very interesting clients. They have an array of talents.”

Lafayette put his hand on Hercules wrist, shaking his mane of hair as he nodded. “How do you hope to release this information?”

“I was thinking it should be leaked anonymously to the press, after which we can follow up with Twitter campaign,” Alexander said.

 “But they will track it to you, for sure.” John said. Alexander thought he heard real concern in John’s voice and fought back a smile.

“Actually, I can help with that,” Hercules said, sharing a small, knowing glance with Lafayette 

“Yes,” Lafayette said, “Hercules knows all sorts of people.”

Alexander placed his glass on the floor and sat back up, his hand coming to rest on John’s leg. “Perfect. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity. I’ve been sitting on it for weeks. What do you need from me?”

Hercules thought a moment. “If you get me the documents, I can get them to the right folks, and then to the press.” 

John nodded, “And then we can start spreading it around on Twitter. It won’t even matter if we use our own names because the info will be public.” 

“Precisely.” Alexander smiled. “I have the documents on my flash drive. Which," he laughed, only just realizing the problem, "is in the pocket of my jeans.”

"Oh," Lafayette said, "I know where that is. I can get it for Hercules, if you wish."

Alexander nodded emphatically. "Yes, do it." 

“You sure you want to trust us with this, kid?” Hercules asked, standing up as Lafayette pulled him by the arm. 

Alexander shrugged. “I’m not the only one with this information. If we don’t put it out there, someone else will. And my client list is confidential and my systems are heavily encrypted. Besides, this is going to get so hot so fast that I think the rest of the Republicans will be rushing to distance themselves from him and won’t be interested in coordinating a counter attack.  

“He posted it publicly. It’s his own dumb fault,” John added.

“Well damn,” Hercules said, turning to walk to behind Lafayette to the bedroom. “If you're sure."

"I am," Alexander said, not entirely certain what made him so confident in these three, but resolute in his conclusion nonetheless.

Hercules shot them one last grin. "Well, in that case, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about a horse.”   

Alexander watched the two of them walking away, head buzzing with the camaraderie of rebellion and the heat of John’s body next to his. He’d been wanting to do something like this for a long time, but hadn’t met anyone he felt he could trust enough to get into the shit with.

“Jesus,” John leaned back, taking a long sip of his drink. “You’re a genius.”

Alexander grinned triumphantly, “Well, let’s wait to see if Hercules can actually get the info into the hands of the right people. If he does, at the very least, I think we will succeed in fucking up Paul Ryan’s Monday morning.”

“Yeah,” John’s hazel eyes were wide. “That’s some amazing shit. You didn’t even know what the point of the party was until I got you here.” 

Alexander fiddled with his shirt hem. “Well, I’m always ready to get into trouble. I’ve got loads more ideas about ways we can shake up the system. I keep them in like, a mental file cabinet. There’s a million things we can do.” He was rambling.

“You’re incredible,” John sighed. Something about the way John exhaled the words, waiting for Alexander to pause without trying to stop him or interrupt him, made his heart pound. He noticed all the ways his body was touching John’s: torsos side by side, John’s arm along his back, John’s hand cupped around his hip, his own fingertips on the soft skin of John’s thigh.  

“Well, I’d be lying if I said no one ever said that to me before.” Alexander was trying to sound coy, but he was sure that John could hear his breath hitch in his throat. 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what all the boys say.” John smiled, eyes flashing, "You know, you’re kinda a hard date to impress." _God he’s pretty_ , Alexander thought, taking in John’s square jawline, perfect freckles, full lips. 

“Is this a date then?” The words came out softer and higher than he had intended. 

“Well, as we discussed, it’s more of a thing.” John mirrored his tone, with more gentleness. “But if you ask Lafayette and Hercules they’re practically planning our wedding.” 

Alexander nodded, turning his body to face John, chest to chest. “That’s premature perhaps. But you can’t blame a couple in love.”

John rolled his eyes. “You don't have to live with them. Sometimes they’re so cute it makes me homicidal,” John brought his face closer to Alexander’s, his tone deepening and taking on an edge that incited an ache between Alexander’s legs. 

“Yeah?” Alexander was breathless, words failing him, his instinct to be careful with John, to take it slow, rapidly losing ground to the hunger in John’s eyes.

“They’re disgusting in the morning,” John said, lips mere inches from his own.

“Is that so?” Alexander felt his eyes flutter and close in time with the rapid beating of his heart. The sounds of the party around him began to fade. His mind was filled with John: his slightly sweet breath, the cinnamon scent of his hair, the curve of his mouth.

“They have matching pajamas.” John practically growled.

“No they don’t.” Alexander tilted his chin up, angling his face toward John.

John closed the distance between them before he finished the last syllable, placing a gentle, warm kiss against Alexander’s mouth. Alexander’s entire body was static, humming. This was new: not rough, anonymous urgency. The sensation was golden and sweet, like sunshine through honey.

Too quickly, John pulled back looking at Alexander with heavy-lidded eyes. “Maybe you should stick around to see for yourself.”


	6. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John needs privacy, Alex makes a decision, or  
> The one where they go all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Another long chapter for you. This is an explicit chapter, and I've changed the rating on the story to accommodate. There is plenty of angst and perhaps a little fluff amidst the smut. Enjoy <3

## CHAPTER 6: THE FIRST NIGHT

** John **

“Is that so?” Alexander smirked.

“They’re disgusting in the morning,” his words came out deep and low, rising from his chest.

John’s imagined the pressure of Alexander’s lips on his own so vividly he could swear they were on him already. “They have matching pajamas.” 

“No they don’t,”Alexander’s incredulity was barely audible. John watched the other man tilt his face up, his expression soft, open.

It was too much to resist. John leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Alexander’s, waiting for the other man to respond. Alexander’s lips moved against his own, opening slightly. John felt Alexander put his hand on John’s chest lean his weight onto him. John grasped him tighter around the waist, reveling in the feeling of taught muscle beneath his fingertips. _I’m in so much trouble._

He pulled back just enough to separate their lips, scanning Alexander’s face. The other man had his eyes closed, dark lashes resting on his cheeks, the slightest suggestion of a smile playing across his narrow pink lips. John willed Alexander to look at him. _Come on baby boy, let me see that you want this._

For a terrible moment John thought he had gone too far, but when Alexander’s eyes fluttered open, they were fierce with desire. “Maybe you should stick around to see for yourself,” he said, holding his face close to the other man’s. 

“Mm.” Alexander had his mouth on John’s again before he could feel embarrassed by his own boldness. Alexander practically crawled into his lap as John let him deepen the kiss, the quiet moans escaping from Alexander’s throat making John’s stomach twist, sending an explicit ache down to his groin. 

John felt Alexander’s tongue run over his lips, asking for entry. He breathed deeply though his nose, placed a hand on either side of Alexander’s waist and lifted him, positioning him directly onto his lap so that the other man was straddling him. John opened his mouth and let Alexander’s tongue in, resisting the urge to buck against the pressure of the other man’s narrow hips against his own.

John didn’t know how long they sat locked together, their contact becoming increasingly heated and urgent. A sharp laugh from the other side of the room brought him back to reality. One of the girls. 

_Fuck. We’re in the living room._

He drug his mouth away from Alexander’s, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling the other man off him. He glanced around and was pleased to see that no one was paying any attention to them. Fritz was keeping the crew occupied with a gnarly blunt, passing now between hands as Nancy told some story that made Molly squeal. 

_God bless her,_ John thought. _Nancy knows when to put on a show_. 

The gentle shifting of Alexander on his lap brought his attention back around to the matter at hand. “Alexander,” he said, surprised at how husky his voice had become.

Alexander was smiling down at him, hands resting on John’s shoulders, clearly enjoying the obvious discomfort growing in his trunks. “Hm?” John’s watched Alexander lick his swollen lip where John had bit him. The sight made John shiver.

“Do y’want…” His words caught in his throat as Alexander leaned down and nudged his face to the side, exposing and sucking lightly on his neck, moving his hips every so slightly against John’s. “Oh fuck, Alexander!” He whispered, swallowing a groan that he knew would draw to them the attention of the rest of the party.

Alexander leaned toward his ear, whispering hot against it, “Do I want?” he asked. John was seconds away from falling to pieces. He had to get Alexander alone.

“My room,” He growled into Alexander’s shoulder as the other man ground down against John’s hips with more force. It was not a question. 

John reached around Alexander and put his hands on the back of the other mans’s upper thighs, bracing his weight as he stood up, Alexander’s legs wrapped around his hips. Alexander was light, all sinewy muscle beneath his palms. John closed the distance between the armchair and the hallway in three quick steps, not bothering to swallow the soft moan that rose from him as Alexander dug his teeth into John’s collar bone. 

 

** Alexander **

_Fuck, he’s strong._ Alexander thought as he felt John grasp his thighs and lift him with ease without removing Alexander from around his hips. He knew that he was smaller than John, but he still hadn’t anticipated the ease with which the other man handled him. He didn’t know if he should feel embarrassed or turned on.

He allowed these thoughts to be subsumed by the insistent urge to sink his teeth into John’s muscular upper body. He nipped at John’s collar bone as they entered the darkness of John’s bedroom, and was rewarded with a groan that made him harden uncomfortably. 

John had stopped just inside the door, seemingly unsure as to where he should deposit his charge. Alexander reached over John’s shoulder and pushed the door shut behind them, reducing the sounds of the party to a dull, lyrical hum in the background. Alexander could hear them breathing in the unexpected quiet.

The room was almost too warm.Probably one of those old apartments where they couldn’t control the heat and the radiator ran constantly. Alexander inhaled: the slightly musky scent of John’s skin mingling with the rum and cider on his breath. He couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he’d been with a someone in a proper bedroom. Six months? Longer? He wrapped one arm around John’s neck, burying his other hand in John’s hair. It was as soft as John was solid between his legs.

Alexander pressed his lips to John’s, which were hot and swollen beneath his own, shifting his weight forward and forcing John to cup his ass to hold him steady. Their bodies pressed together tightly, John’s shoulders against the door as Alexander ground against him, carefully now in the absence of the party’s cacophony.

The intimacy of the moment, of his body wrapped around John’s while the other man supported his weight, welled up in him: a fragile and unfamiliar sensation ebbing underneath the fever of his desire to fuck John silly.

_Shit._

“John,” he said quietly, releasing John’s hair and bringing his hand down to cup John’s cheek, stroking the side of the other man’s face over his sideburns and the rough scruff growing on his jaw. 

“Alexander.” John’s voice was low, the last syllables humming in his throat. John’s had stilled himself, the heat between their bodies was almost painful through Alexander’s briefs.

There was something about the patient intensity in John’s face right before he had kissed him, like John had caught a glimpse of some place deep and private inside of Alexander. Like he had _seen_ Alexander, and was guarding the vulnerability he found there with a tenderness so brutal Alexander thought their communion might wreck him.

Alexander closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his forehead to John’s. The room was hot and he was beginning to sweat where his thighs touched John’s hips. Pearly moonlight cast shadows across John’s neatly made bed and the small room, which Alex could see was sparse and tidy: a small dresser in the far corner, a desk piled high with neat stacks of books and papers, pictures on the wall with subjects he couldn’t make out. The window was cracked open, letting in small gusts of cool air that smelled like snow.

He tried to breathe. “Are you sure that you’re allowed to have boys your room?” He kissed a small trail down John’s jaw toward his neck.

“Definitely not” John made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a moan, turning his face to catch Alexander’s mouth and suck on his bottom lip. Alexander felt him kneed his ass cheeks and gasped into John’s embrace.

Alexander unwrapped his legs from around John’s waist and moved to a standing position, still leaning his body against John’s. “So rebellious,” he smiled, willing his heart to stop pounding.

_Cool it. Don’t be stupid._

John kept one hand on Alexander’s ass, the other making it’s way underneath Alexander’s shirt as John kissed him again, soft but insistent. “We can sit on the bed, if you like.”

Alexander let himself be led. He climbed up, sitting on top of the comforter with his back against the headboard, feet on the mattress and knees bent. It was a perfect position from which to watch the moonlight play on John’sfreckled skin as the other man positioned himself in front of him, sitting cross legged between Alexander’s legs, John’s knees tucked underneath his bent knees.

John’s eyes shone with an expression that seemed to span the distance between wanting to tear Alexander apart and to sew him back together.

“So?” John said, cocking an eyebrow and smiling roguishly.

“So,” Alexander replied, trying instill the word with his typical sexual bravado, pushing aside the prickling affection he felt growing in his chest.

_You barely know this guy. Stop._

He tried to focus on what he knew he wanted: to see John bare and writhing underneath his touch, to make him feel as good as he could possible feel. Alexander leaned forward and began to slide John’s shirt up his body, looking up at John’s for permission before slowly it over his head.

“My god,” he whispered, running his fingertips down John’s well defined chest and abs, tracing paths between the constellations of freckles across his body. “You’re so gorgeous.” He wanted to lick a trail between every freckle, drag his tongue across John’s hot skin until the other man lost his mind.

The music outside the room had changed from an upbeat melody to a mournful pulsing. John ran his hands along the outside of Alexander’s thighs. “Can I?” John smiled, and even in the darkness Alexander could tell that John was blushing. Alexander nodded and let John strip him of his shirt. Alexander wasn’t huge, but he was lean, and he felt his skin catch fire as John’s gaze raked shamelessly over his body.

“You’re even hotter than I imagined,” John said gruffly, leaning forward to kiss Alexander again, running his fingers down Alexander’s stomach and resting on the sharp v of his hipbones. 

He smiled against John’s lips. “So you’ve been fantasizing about me?”

“Every single night since that night at Peter’s,” John returned. Alexander’s chest tightened. _For weeks,_ he thought, as John continued, “You’re so fucking sexy and smart. You’ve been driving me crazy.” He kissed Alexander’s neck and collar bone between each word.

Alexander leaned his head back, a moan escaping his lips. “Jesus,” he gasped. “And here I thought you weren’t interested.”

John didn’t remove his mouth from Alexander’s skin. “I literally invited you to a party where you had to be half naked.” 

“True,” Alexander said, lifting his torso and arching his back slightly against John’s hands. His body was so sensitive that every point of contact was excruciating. He let out an involuntary, frustrated moan as John’s hand grazed his cock through his underwear.

John’s paused, smiling at this emission. “Tell me what you want to do,” John palmed Alexander’s through his underwear, his voice deep and guttural. The pressure caused Alexander to see stars, the warm friction of John’s hand threatening to bring him to an early finish.

 _Oh fuck no,_ he thought. _Gotta get this situation under control._

Alexander slid his hands down John’s torso to the top of his trunks. “I want to take you apart,” he whispered.

John let out a dark moan, burying his face against Alexander’s shoulder as Alexander’s fingers graced the tip of John’s erection through his underwear. “God. Alex,” he choked out.

 _There we are,_ Alex smiled at the nickname. John had never used it before. “I like it when you call me that.” He kissed John again, his hand overing just above John’s dick outside of his underwear.“Is this okay?” He asked.

John nodded, pushing up into Alex’s hand. He reached inside the waist band of John’s trunks and wrapped his hand around John’s cock and started stroking it slowly, applying pressure at the base and moving his hand up, work his thumb gently over the tip of his head.

“Oh fuck Alex.” John breathed into his mouth. Alex felt his own dick twitch as John said his name. John’s placed his hands on the headboard behind Alex, kissing him deeply as Alex stroked him.

“That’s it.” Alex said, biting back the " _cariño"_  that his mind supplied at the end of the sentence. He was already have a hard time controlling his reactions: he could feel his orgasm building just from the proximity of John’s erection to his body. He couldn’t just start throwing out pet names.

“Alex you feel so good,” John was thrusting into his hand, his arms shaking slightly on either side of Alex’s head. Alex watched him close his eyes and bit his lower lip, the soft light falling through the window and undulating across his freckled torso like moonlight onto ocean waves.

Alex pulled his hand away and heard John gasp in protest. “Oh come now,” he soothed darkly, kissing John’s face as the other man whimpered. “Be good. Don’t you want to come in my mouth?”

John shuddered against him, groaning in a way that nearly pushed Alex over the edge.

“Use your words,” Alex goaded, reaching back down to stoke John lightly. An act of mercy.

“God. Yes. Alex. Please!”

Alex straightened his knees and slipped one leg out from beside John, nudged him onto his back. He kissed his way down John’s stomach and peeled his trunks off, throwing them to the side. John, totally nude, was a sight to behold. Alex was tempted to pause, to etch the image of John’s body sprawled on his bed as the nighttime in the city cascaded around them, but the poor man was falling apart.

Alexander brought his face level with John’s cock, looking up into John’s eyes as he brought his mouth to it.

“So you were imaging this?” He flattened his tongue and licked from the base to the tip, tasting pre-come. “Just like this?” John squirmed and groaned in agreement.

“Alex, oh god!” John buried his figures in Alex’s hair as Alex took John’s length into his mouth slowly. He was almost able to take the whole thing before it touched the back of this throat and he had to stop. Alex began to move up and down, swallowing around him, working him with increasing urgency as he felt John stiffen beneath him.

“Oh Alex… I’m going to… y’might wanna… pull off…” Alex did not want to stop. He wanted to feel John’s orgasm in his throat. He reached down and put his hands under John’s hips, helping the other man to thrust deeper into his mouth, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. Alex’s senses were filled with the smooth weight of John against his tongue, the heady smell of the man’s skin, the softness of the sheets beneath his body, the cool moonlight filling the room.

John came with a yelp inside Alex’s mouth as he swallowed. Alex felt the slightest pang of disappointment as he released John, sorry that the experience had ended. He liked it. He could have kept going. He ran his tongue over his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

John pulled Alex back up almost immediately, kissing him on the mouth. None of the other men he’d been with had done that before. _He’s not shy about the taste._

After a taking a moment to catch his breath, John rolled Alex to his back and straddled his hips. He let his hand trail down to Alex’s dick, which was popping out the top of his underwear. “Tell me how to take care of you, baby boy.”

So John was not shy about nicknames. The words dragged him closer to orgasm, heat pooling in his lower body. It wouldn’t take much.

John leaned down to kiss him, sliding his hand beneath Alex’s underwear to grasp him. Alex moaned into John’s mouth, unable to explain, thrusting into John’s hand. John seemed to get the message. The other man kissed him deeply, the movement of his tongue mirroring that of his hand as he stroked Alexander until he came with a high-pitched moan.

Alex exhaled deeply into the heat of the room, ripples of pleasure and release still coursing through his body. He reached down to stroke John’s hair as the other man collapsed onto his torso. _Oh my god._

After a moment, Alex watched as John fumbled for something to clean them up, finding a towel on the nightstand next to the bed. John wiped his hand and Alex’s stomach with the soft cloth, then threw it aside as he settled to lay on top of Alex’s chest with one heavy arm draped over him. Alex wrapped his arms around the other man, feeling John’s soft curls tickle his chin. They lay like that for minutes or hours. Alex couldn’t tell.

Alex was dimly aware that, around this time, he would typically begin a frenzied effort to try and suppress a desperate instinct to flee. He wondered at its absence, and noticed that the party seemed to have ended. No more sound was coming through the door. The only noise was John’s breathing and the city’s nighttime chorus of cars and rooftop mechanical equipment. Now would be the time to sneak away.

“John,” he shifted, causing the other man to look up at him with sleep in his eyes. “I’m going to go.” He didn’t want to untangle their limbs, didn’t want to leave the soft heat of John’s body next to his.

John sat up. “Oh,” he said. The syllable cut short with a small frown, which Alex watched him try and fail to suppress. Alex leaned over to try and kiss the expression off of John’s face. John returned his kiss, tightly at first, warming up to it as Alex put his hand gently on the back of John’s head. When he pulled back to begin searching for his clothes beside the bed, he was surprised to find a small, hallow sensation in his chest.

John rubbed his eyes, still looking disappointed. “Do you have to?”

“I’ll come back,” he tried to smile. Alex couldn’t stay. He never stayed. He found his shirt and pulled it on. He wasn’t sure how to ask about his jeans. “This was great,”he added, his tone higher than he intended it to be, perhaps revealing what he couldn’t tell John: that his sweetness had turned Alex’s bones to glass and now he feared he might crack.

Alex moved to swing his legs of the side of the bed when he felt a soft, firm hand on his bicep. “Alex,” John’s voice was thick and warm, coating and smoothing Alex’s brittleness. He turned to look at John, who gazed up at him, form dappled with moonlight, looking for all the world like some kind of miracle.

“I won’t beg.” John said simply, rendering no judgement but leaving no room to argue. He guided Alexander back down to the mattress.

“Again, you mean.” Alex smirked, but allowed himself to be wrapped in John’s arms. He sighed, releasing some small part of his anxiousness into John’s embrace, and telling himself that he could leave early to go for a run. _What difference will a few hours make?_

He faced John and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. _One night. One night is fine._ Besides, it was freezing outside and who knew how long it would take to get a train.

“Mhmm.” John settled back down to his original position, arms around Alex’s waist, head pressed against his chest. “You can escape in the morning,” John uttered the words directly against Alex’s skin, muffling their sound.

Alex sincerely doubted that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for those that are reading! Your comments and kudos are super motivating. 
> 
> I feel like we are really beginning to get into some of the interior psychological territory of our boys here. Did you get that sense as well? Do you think we need more John? Yeah, me too. Next update will give John more narrative time for sure.
> 
> So many thanks for your support! <3


End file.
